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Description
A short story about a sadistic TentaSpy living in the sewers below 2fort.

Useless Existence

Just another day in 2fort. Lying around in the filthy water, ripping meat from exploded or charred corpses, tearing the teeth from long cooled jaws, avoiding bombs and stray bullets from mercenaries...

Yup.

Just another excruciatingly boring day in the sewers of 2fort. I dive underwater as a RED Medic's body smacks against the wall behind me and drops into the water. I roll my eyes at the uncreative taunt that is screamed at the dead body. How stupid. There is no honour in killing a defenseless enemy during humiliation. But since it's a Medic, I don't really mind. I despise Medics. I run my clawed hand over my necklace in a habit, the many human teeth hanging from it feeling pleasant against my fingers.

I carefully make my over to the man in the water, and bite him quickly, drawing back immediately after. The man doesn't move. Definitely dead. It never hurts to be careful. I swim forward again and snare the cooling corpse in my tentacles, drawing it towards me. I hate Medics, but I love collecting their teeth.

I push my clawed hands into his mouth and pull on the canine teeth of the man with a mild disinterest. I wish the Medic was still alive, I ache to hear screams... As soon as the canine teeth are out, I let go of the body as if it burns me to touch it. My tentacles sneak forward, and I push them into the Medic's eye sockets, ripping out his eyes. My other tentacles wrap themselves around his limbs, and with a rough jerk, I tear them from his body, the water turning murky with his guts and blood. Did I mention I hate Medics ? I throw the corpse out of the water, and spit on it for good measure, the two canine teeth held tightly in my hand. These two new teeth make up nicely for having to touch a filthy Medic. I purr softly as I caress the teeth on my beloved necklace. I should hurry to my nest before the next round starts, which it will in just a few minutes.

As I swim through the water, I can see a RED Medic and engineer dragging the motionless body of a Sniper across the field. The Engineer looks worried and is somewhat pale, and I roll my eyes at his overreaction. I hiss when the Medic's clearly excited face comes into my view. How despicable ! All of them are the same, just crazed scientists, hoping for someone to injure themselves so they can experiment with them ! I let out a dark growl and continue on my way. I will get that Medic soon, and make sure he regrets his very own birth ! I hope that Sniper is dead, or at least unfit to be an experiment. I would only wish my fate upon the one who bestowed it on me... Then again, he IS a filthy bushman...

" M... Medic.." The sound is so soft I almost don't hear it as I make my way to my nest. I stop dead in my tracks, throwing up my natural cloak to prevent being captured. The scent of blood is thick, but I have learned not to trust my sense of smell on the battlefield. It always smells like blood in this godforsaken place. For a small moment, all is silent, and I almost believe I imagined the soft whimper. Then, the voice calls out again. "D... Doc ! C... C'mon man... " I creep towards the edge as silently as possible, preparing to flee or pounce the unknown thing around the corner. As I round the bend, I am met with the sight of the RED scout. Or what's left of him.

The water around him is colored red, a gaping wound in his stomach, and I lick my lips. Scouts are a rare delicacy to me, and I haven't had a taste of one in ages ! I ate just a few moments ago, I should keep this special treat for dinner... Yesssss... That's what I'll do.

It's hard to ignore my need to kill. I almost can't resist the urge to jump him and rip every piece of meat from his scrawny body, but crawling out in the open during Humiliation is asking for bulletwounds, a scalpel in my abdomen, and death in the long run.

Not that I'd mind so much if I were to die. On the contrary ! Death doesn't scare me. After I found out what I had become, the first thing that came to mind was suicide. I tried as well, many times, and I failed every single time. At the critical moment, my mind would lose against primal self preservation, and I would hurry away to safety. Or what my body believes is safety. I still have my ambassador in my nest, loaded, and my balisong. Maybe one day I'll be able to off myself properly, but now is not the time to think about suicide. I have finally found something to amuse me. Living prey.

"Me...Medic..." The scout whimpers, his legs twitching and his eyes shut in pain. I draw closer, stopping only a meter from the whimpering mess of a scout. Was humiliation over ? I don't remember hearing the announcer screaming 'CEASEFIRE', but then again, I spend 98% of my time trying to ignore her loud screeches.

I lick my lips in hunger, and I find that my tentacles are already reaching out to the pathetic boy in the water. I don't remember ever feeling bad about eating the fallen ones. Before my incident I killed people without feeling guilty, now, I kill them and eat them without feeling guilty. Minor difference. Nobody cares about the corpses anyway, the next morning brings in a whole load of new Team members. Some might say that I'm an inhuman beast for eating humans, but I already lost humanity a long time before the 'incident', of that I'm sure.

My tentacles curl and sweep around underwater, showing my eagerness. I really want to rip him apart, feel his warm blood spilling into my mouth and stilling my ever lurking hunger as he screams and screams and screams. To pull all those teeth from his jaws as he's still alive to feel the pain, seeing him cry when I rip off his nails... It's been far too long since I tortured someone.

My tentacles twitch and twinge at my sadistic thoughts, and I let out a rumbling sound, not unlike a growling moan. I clasp my clawed hands tightly around my tentacles, tearing my nails into them roughly. They spasm in pain and I dig my nails in even deeper, the pain clearing my mind for a bit.

Hurting myself is a poor substitute for the immense feeling of power that comes with torturing another being, but it has proved to be an efficient way to blow off steam. I start inching towards the Scout, taking quick looks around me for the sake of safety.

After the incident, I was suffering from more than just nicotine withdrawal. I was suffering the pain of not being able to hurt or torture anyone. That rush of power over another being, being both their salvation and damnation, using every single weakness of the mind and body to make their existance hell on earth...

Even though I have played with the thought to capture and torture the mercenaries, I never went through with it. What if they escaped ? What if they told their Medic about me ? I never feel safe, except when I'm in my nest. I shouldn't allow myself to feel safe there, I'm sure they'd be able to reach my nest and exterminate me like a rodent if they really felt like it.

I softly make my way over to the scout, my mouth watering at the scent of fresh blood. I quickly look outside the sewer pipes, ensuring no one is near enough to see me. I wriggle over to the dying scout in the water, and wrap my tentacles around his chest tightly. He gasps and tries to turn his head to look at me, but I smack him in the head with my claw. His head flops to the side. Unconscious. I could've tried using my paralyzing bite, but I don't think I would have been able to stop myself from ripping his throat out. I swim, pulling him towards the deeper parts of the sewers. I growl at the warm flesh beneath my tentacles. I want to rip it apart, run my feelers all over it, and hear it scream in agony when I rip teeth from sensitive gums...

"Spy and Scout, swimming in a sewer, B-L-E-E-D-I-N-G. First comes torture, then comes feeding, then comes hiding the body..."

I butcher the children's song horribly, my own made lyrics nonrhythmic, my singing false and raspy. I enjoy it though. Sadistic thoughts keep me amused in the endless boredom that is my existence.

I tighten my tentacles around the boy, and am surprised to feel that his feet are as cold as the water around them. Merde! The idiot is dying ! I immediately dive underwater, pulling the Scout with me, a tentacle around his mouth to prevent him from trying to breathe water. I swim as fast as I can, not wanting my only entertainment to die.

We surface in my nest, the only place where I truly feel at ease. I let out a pleased hum when I see my shelter. I enjoy the deep darkness from my cave, I can see straight through it, my eyes a great deal better than they had been before my change. Bones litter the cave, and a small pile of limbs lie in a small corner, leftovers from my dinner yesterday.

I try to lay the Scout down on the cave floor, but I find my cave is too small for a human to be lying in. Figures. I always liked to keep my tentacles in the water when eating here, so I never needed more than just 1 meter of room.

I quickly lay the scout next to the RED dispenser that I stole many months ago. Back then, I took the dispenser on a whim, an old habit. Such a useful device for torturing. No despicable Medics to annoy me, just a small machine constantly, healing my prey. Prolonging the suffering until I decided to show mercy to my prey. The dispenser also glows for a bit, which comes in handy when trying to read in peace.

I can't resist running my claws over my prey's legs hanging into the water, watching the wounds heal up slowly, only to reappear when I once again run my claws over his legs. My stomach clenches with hunger, and I can't seem to stop salivating constantly. I need to eat before I lose control...

I grab an old limb from my pile of 'leftovers' and start gnawing on it. It tastes bad, but it fills my stomach, and that's all that matter now. I don't want to eat him without having my fair share of deserved fun...

I lean over him, my claws drawing deep marks over his pale face. I better ready myself for when the boy wakes up. I pull myself out of the water for a bit, and I reach into my dispenser. I keep all I own in there, probably because it's the only remotely dry place in my nest.

Countless stacks of useless intel serve to dry my skin as I shove them all aside to find my personal belongings. My balaclava and suit lie folded at the bottom, partially rotten and moldy from being damp for so long, and I pull them out. They have nostalgic value to me, but no practical use, I don't wear them anymore. They'll only slow me down. My butterfly knife still sticks out of the hidden pocket in my suit, and I smile when I remember the many times I killed someone with that very knife. The smile drops when I remember the times I sank it's blade into my arms and tentacles, intending to end my existence. I quickly drop the items on the cave floor. My ambassador lies at the very bottom, but for once, the ache to try and shoot myself through the head isn't present. I have something to occupy myself with now. And no suicidal thoughts are going to get in the way of that. I push the Ambassador aside to reach the last item in the dispenser.

The BLU Medic's head. He was the cause of my 'incident'. He took away all that I was, and turned me into... into whatever I am now.

I took my revenge.

It was hard to catch the Medic alone, but weeks of waiting paid off, and I was able to capture him. It wasn't easy to drag him to my nest without killing him or alerting anyone. Even though the Medic got quite a few syringes and saws sticking into me, it was very worth it. I feel a grin split my face once more, and I let my clawed fingers run over my teeth necklace again. The teeth clacking together softly have a calming effect on me, and I sigh contently.

Never before did I hear screams as loud as the BLU Medic's when I pulled his teeth out. Beautiful. It's probably the BLU Medic who sparked my obsession with pulling teeth. I smash the head into the dispenser, and throw it into the water. I'll fish it up later. Maybe. Someday.

I fold my ambassador and knife in my moldy suit, and go down into the water. I pull away a rock with my tentacles, and stash my belongings in the small hole it leaves in the stone wall. Never take any chances. I wanted all the possible weapons far away from the boy. Inexperienced as Scouts often are, they are still hired mercenaries, and their speed is something to watch out for. I shove some dirt in front of the items to hide them. That should do for now. I swim back quickly, maybe the Scout has already awakened. Maybe I can already start ! I snarl at the idea in impatience. I want food and screams. Food and Screams. Preferably NOW !

I hurry back towards my nest, and I feel anger building in my chest when I find the Scout still sleeping. How DARE he be still asleep ? I snarl and slap one of my tentacles across his face roughly. He only lets out a pained groan before resuming his sleep again. Figures. I don't stop hitting though, the feeling of my tentacles striking his skin like whips making me feel jittery and sending my tentacles into a twitching spasm every time they strike. I snarl angrily, and my claws join in the attempt to wake the Scout, slashing across his chest.

He wakes up with a startled gasp, and a raw groan escapes him. " What... Who...? I -" He turns his head, the confused expression on his face immediately twists into one of pure horror. He freezes on the spot, his jaw trembling in shock, and his nails digging into the cave ground.

His eyes widen as he takes in my appearance, and he presses himself against the cave wall. "What'z wrong mon ami ? Do I have somezhing on my face ?"

I wipe my hand over my face, gory smears from my earlier snack being left behind on my cheek. I can't seem to stop grinning. The scout is pale, and his arms are shaking, and behind the terrified expression I see a flicker of disgust. I thought I would have felt amused by seeing his repulsed glare, that it wouldn't phase me. But instead of amusement, an unwelcome feeling creeps up on me, one I thought I had gotten rid of. Shame.

It wipes the grin right off my face, and I feel self-hate bubbling up as the scout gags at my looks. I feel like clawing at my face and tentacles in disgust, crawling away and never showing my face again, dying. I suppress it. Now is not the time. It would never work anyway. I have become so very ugly. Ever since my 'incident', I have clawed at my ugly body in an attempt to return it to its previous state, to no avail. I am still hideous. If not even more ugly...

A weak kick in the chest jolts me out of my thoughts, and I gasp in surprise, instinct kicking in immediately. All thoughts are kicked out of my head in a millisecond, leaving only the pure need to survive, to live. Before I know it, my tentacles are wrapped tightly around the Scout's neck, the small bones in his neck creaking and shifting beneath my grip. His mouth opens and closes without a sound, his eyes bulging and limbs twitching in the tight grip of my tentacles.

"If you do that again, I will rip the teeth from your jaws and use them as beads for my necklace!" I hiss the words sharply into his ears, and I tighten my tentacles briefly around him before finally releasing his neck. The Scout starts gasping like crazy, loud coughs interrupting his desperate attempts at breathing. Ha. I make it sound like I won't pull out his teeth if he decides to play good. I will do it anyway, if he behaves or not. There's always room for more teeth in my collection.

I smile. Time to get to work. I wrap two of my tentacles around each of his limbs, and stretch him out under me. He is still breathing loudly, but it won't take long before he starts screaming and yelling again. I clamp my clawed hand over his mouth and give him a sly smile. Such memories flooded back into my mind...

Before the 'incident', I had been a decent Spy. My greatest ability didn't lie on the battlefield, oh no, expertise was torture. On the battlefield, I used to be average at best. Nothing extraordinary. Just another Spy, sharing my amount of skill with dozens of others. But when it came to extracting information from prisoners, I was one of the very best.

Where the other Spies failed for days on end, I would succeed in mere hours. Many teammates feared me, with good reasons I suppose. When asked, I would torture anyone they wanted me to. Enemies and Teammates... They made no difference to me.

When they didn't catch anyone. I would.

Any person, friend of foe. I'd tie them up and torture them until their body could take no more. I truly enjoyed that, and still do. I don't think my team was unhappy when the BLU Medic decided I was too dangerous to keep in the team. They even helped him finding me and strapping me down. I guess they finally had enough of my psychotic behavior.

I shake the memories out of my head, and turn to my prey, who shivers under my glare. It's time for entertainment " Let us get sstarted oui ?"

….

I stare at the disemboweled mess in front of me that used to be the RED Scout. My only means of amusement reduced to a mere meal. My mood has turned sour, and I grit my teeth, swallowing a piece of flesh that was hanging from between my lips. I would have spat it out, but I am not wasting perfectly good food like Scout-meat.

How could I let this happen ? I should have had more control over myself, I shouldn't have let myself go like that ! I snarl in frustration and dig my claws into one of my tentacles again. I had barely even begun. I had only just started to wring the teeth from his jaws, and I only pulled the nails from his feet... I had overestimated my amount of control over my instincts. My little snack hadn't been enough to stop me from killing the scout in a pang of hunger. I pull my nails out of my tentacle, and I fidget with my jewelry nervously.

I feel tears threatening to spill, and I claw into my tentacles again to prevent it. I used to be such a controlled man, able to hold back everything and anything without ever losing control. It's no longer like that, I can feel it.

As a human, I had something that resembled instincts. Just simple urges to eat and drink, to help me survive... My incident more than tripled my need for those things. When I feel hunger, I can't tell myself to wait until the end of the day. No. I must feed right then and there! It's not a choice I assure you, as soon as my stomach rumbles, all I can think about is food. All I do from there is related to it. It scares me to have lost control over myself like that. It happened just a few moments ago too... I also lost all the teeth I pulled out of the Scout's mouth...

Did I mention I want to die ? Desperately? I tried as soon as possible after my incident, only to find out that I couldn't. I truly couldn't, and I still can't. As soon as the barrel of my ambassador rests against my temple, my instinct kicks in, taking over my entire being. The mere idea of dying is enough for my body to take control over my mind. The first time I tried to end myself, I completely lost any sense of reality. I regained my mind when I had dragged myself onto dry land, and got my tentacle into one of the sniper's traps. Thank god that tentacle grew back by itself. Thank god nobody was around to hear me scream and cry like a child...

The second time I tried to end myself, took preparations. I sat in my nest for the whole day, and told myself dying would be bliss. I believed it. But when I felt the iron of the gun against my lips, I freaked again. Panic and fear running through me faster then a Scout on Bonk!. I don't even know what sparks it. I long for death, dream of it even. But in the moment of truth, all is overcome by a flaming desire to survive. I can not resist, and I flee my nest in panic every single time. Like a pathetic, scared animal.

I tried ignoring it, supressing it, acknowledging it, nothing works! So I just try, every day, in the hope that this time, I will be able to pull the trigger before I can't even hurt myself the way I want. Just one step too far and my control is out the window. I take my injured tentacle up to my mouth and lick over the wounds absentmindedly, the dispenser slowly closing them, leaving tiny scars on my tentacles. A medigun would rid me of the scars as well, but I would be lying if I say I don't like the scars. Not because I think they look pretty, or cool, but because I like to think that I chose to be ugly. It makes it easier to be ugly. Ugly. Ugly. I bite into my still healing tentacle, leaving crude teeth marks on it, and lick the blood from re-opened wound. Ugly.

I lie down on the corpse of the Scout. It's still somewhat warm. I curl up to the cooling flesh, and nibble on a loose piece of flesh. I fall asleep very quickly, nuzzling closer into my lukewarm dinner. I can't help but feel content. I am warm, fed, sleepy, entertained, and safe. All a monster like me could ask for. I should be enraged for losing my cool so quickly, I should be annoyed for losing my entertainment, I should feel depressed for becoming a monstrosity, but there is only one thing on my mind: sleep.

….

When I awaken, I find that I am covered in a thick layer of sticky Scout-gore. The only part of my body not covered in guts and caked blood is my lower body. My tentacles have been hanging in the water the entire night. I should probably take a morning dip, the skin on my upper body feels very dry and icky with all that blood on it. I scratch my claws over what's left of the Scout's body, and quickly eat a few scraps of meat as means of breakfast. There's barely anything edible left on the Scout, the boy didn't have much meat on him to begin with, mostly tendons and bones.

I glance around my home, and I smile. It's a complete mess. The Dispenser is knocked slightly to the side in an escape attempt of the Scout, and the walls and ceiling are splattered with blood and innards. My pile of 'snacks' is also lying haphazardly throughout my tiny cave, many of them drifting in the water next to me. I am tidy, and I hate a mess. But ever since the incident, a messy nest means something to occupy myself with! Besides trying desperately to shove a gun into my mouth and pull the trigger of course.

I wring my tentacles in slight anticipation, there's nothing like tidying up my nest! First things first. I need to get rid of the source of this mess. The Scout. I pull the last remaining teeth from his jaws, and drop them into the blood splattered dispenser, taking the time to push it into it's previous position. I wipe a wet tentacle over the dispenser to get the blood off, singing a song to myself.

" Working at ze Car-wassh... Ze car wassh~"

Once the dispenser is as good as clean, I start gathering the bits and pieces of Scout scattered around the cave. I wish I knew some more songs I could sing. I stack the pieces of flesh in a small corner next to the dispenser, and I take my time to order them in freshness. Long edible food on the bottom, close to rotting at the top, and the freshest in the middle.

I splash large amounts of water into the cave, and rub my tentacles over the walls and ceiling to get the caked blood to loosen. The water drips down, and takes most of the grime with it. I shove the bones lying around into the dispenser, and stack the Intel papers into neat little piles. I swipe all the leftover thrash into the water, and before I know it, my entire cave is spic and span once again. Just the way I like it.

I lie down in my nest contently, taking a moment to enjoy my hard work. I let out a sigh.

The last piece of thrash floating around is the Scout's corpse. It's drifting face-down in the water, to prevent it from dirtying my cave. I stretch myself, and prepare to leave my nest.

I check my cloaking ability, and flex all my tentacles. Perfect.

I scrape my nails over the cave wall, and sharpen them for a bit. That'll have to do.

I lick over my teeth, and I'm satisfied with the amount of paralyzing poison that drips from them. Very nice.

I'm ready to go out.

I grip the corpse in my tentacles and dive down to leave my nest. When I resurface, I find that the battlefield is still deadly silent, and that the sun is barely creeping above the horizon. I feel a slight twinge of despair pull at me. Only morning ? How would I go through the rest of this day ? My good spirits fade, and I let myself sink to the bottom of the sewers, pushing the corpse away from me. Another day. What in the world would I do today ? There is only so much I can do... I can clean my nest, watch the fight between the teams, bite and claw at myself until I whimper in pain, try to slit my throat, ram my head against a wall to lose consciousness. Big fun, if you couldn't tell already.

In a fit of blind rage, I grab the corpse in the water, and smack it against the sewer floor.

SMACK!

"I hate you!"

SMACK!

"I hate you!"

SMACK!

"I HATE YOU!"

With the loudest roar I can summon, I throw the corpse out of the sewers, sending it skittering across the dust outside. I scream again in frustration and anger, and I drag my claws over my face roughly, trying to stop the sobs rippling through me. I curl up into a ball, and retract my nails from the new wounds in my face. My entire existence is useless.

Description
A short story about a sadistic TentaSpy living in the sewers below 2fort.

Useless Existence

Just another day in 2fort. Lying around in the filthy water, ripping meat from exploded or charred corpses, tearing the teeth from long cooled jaws, avoiding bombs and stray bullets from mercenaries...

Yup.

Just another excruciatingly boring day in the sewers of 2fort. I dive underwater as a RED Medic's body smacks against the wall behind me and drops into the water. I roll my eyes at the uncreative taunt that is screamed at the dead body. How stupid. There is no honour in killing a defenseless enemy during humiliation. But since it's a Medic, I don't really mind. I despise Medics. I run my clawed hand over my necklace in a habit, the many human teeth hanging from it feeling pleasant against my fingers.

I carefully make my over to the man in the water, and bite him quickly, drawing back immediately after. The man doesn't move. Definitely dead. It never hurts to be careful. I swim forward again and snare the cooling corpse in my tentacles, drawing it towards me. I hate Medics, but I love collecting their teeth.

I push my clawed hands into his mouth and pull on the canine teeth of the man with a mild disinterest. I wish the Medic was still alive, I ache to hear screams... As soon as the canine teeth are out, I let go of the body as if it burns me to touch it. My tentacles sneak forward, and I push them into the Medic's eye sockets, ripping out his eyes. My other tentacles wrap themselves around his limbs, and with a rough jerk, I tear them from his body, the water turning murky with his guts and blood. Did I mention I hate Medics ? I throw the corpse out of the water, and spit on it for good measure, the two canine teeth held tightly in my hand. These two new teeth make up nicely for having to touch a filthy Medic. I purr softly as I caress the teeth on my beloved necklace. I should hurry to my nest before the next round starts, which it will in just a few minutes.

As I swim through the water, I can see a RED Medic and engineer dragging the motionless body of a Sniper across the field. The Engineer looks worried and is somewhat pale, and I roll my eyes at his overreaction. I hiss when the Medic's clearly excited face comes into my view. How despicable ! All of them are the same, just crazed scientists, hoping for someone to injure themselves so they can experiment with them ! I let out a dark growl and continue on my way. I will get that Medic soon, and make sure he regrets his very own birth ! I hope that Sniper is dead, or at least unfit to be an experiment. I would only wish my fate upon the one who bestowed it on me... Then again, he IS a filthy bushman...

" M... Medic.." The sound is so soft I almost don't hear it as I make my way to my nest. I stop dead in my tracks, throwing up my natural cloak to prevent being captured. The scent of blood is thick, but I have learned not to trust my sense of smell on the battlefield. It always smells like blood in this godforsaken place. For a small moment, all is silent, and I almost believe I imagined the soft whimper. Then, the voice calls out again. "D... Doc ! C... C'mon man... " I creep towards the edge as silently as possible, preparing to flee or pounce the unknown thing around the corner. As I round the bend, I am met with the sight of the RED scout. Or what's left of him.

The water around him is colored red, a gaping wound in his stomach, and I lick my lips. Scouts are a rare delicacy to me, and I haven't had a taste of one in ages ! I ate just a few moments ago, I should keep this special treat for dinner... Yesssss... That's what I'll do.

It's hard to ignore my need to kill. I almost can't resist the urge to jump him and rip every piece of meat from his scrawny body, but crawling out in the open during Humiliation is asking for bulletwounds, a scalpel in my abdomen, and death in the long run.

Not that I'd mind so much if I were to die. On the contrary ! Death doesn't scare me. After I found out what I had become, the first thing that came to mind was suicide. I tried as well, many times, and I failed every single time. At the critical moment, my mind would lose against primal self preservation, and I would hurry away to safety. Or what my body believes is safety. I still have my ambassador in my nest, loaded, and my balisong. Maybe one day I'll be able to off myself properly, but now is not the time to think about suicide. I have finally found something to amuse me. Living prey.

"Me...Medic..." The scout whimpers, his legs twitching and his eyes shut in pain. I draw closer, stopping only a meter from the whimpering mess of a scout. Was humiliation over ? I don't remember hearing the announcer screaming 'CEASEFIRE', but then again, I spend 98% of my time trying to ignore her loud screeches.

I lick my lips in hunger, and I find that my tentacles are already reaching out to the pathetic boy in the water. I don't remember ever feeling bad about eating the fallen ones. Before my incident I killed people without feeling guilty, now, I kill them and eat them without feeling guilty. Minor difference. Nobody cares about the corpses anyway, the next morning brings in a whole load of new Team members. Some might say that I'm an inhuman beast for eating humans, but I already lost humanity a long time before the 'incident', of that I'm sure.

My tentacles curl and sweep around underwater, showing my eagerness. I really want to rip him apart, feel his warm blood spilling into my mouth and stilling my ever lurking hunger as he screams and screams and screams. To pull all those teeth from his jaws as he's still alive to feel the pain, seeing him cry when I rip off his nails... It's been far too long since I tortured someone.

My tentacles twitch and twinge at my sadistic thoughts, and I let out a rumbling sound, not unlike a growling moan. I clasp my clawed hands tightly around my tentacles, tearing my nails into them roughly. They spasm in pain and I dig my nails in even deeper, the pain clearing my mind for a bit.

Hurting myself is a poor substitute for the immense feeling of power that comes with torturing another being, but it has proved to be an efficient way to blow off steam. I start inching towards the Scout, taking quick looks around me for the sake of safety.

After the incident, I was suffering from more than just nicotine withdrawal. I was suffering the pain of not being able to hurt or torture anyone. That rush of power over another being, being both their salvation and damnation, using every single weakness of the mind and body to make their existance hell on earth...

Even though I have played with the thought to capture and torture the mercenaries, I never went through with it. What if they escaped ? What if they told their Medic about me ? I never feel safe, except when I'm in my nest. I shouldn't allow myself to feel safe there, I'm sure they'd be able to reach my nest and exterminate me like a rodent if they really felt like it.

I softly make my way over to the scout, my mouth watering at the scent of fresh blood. I quickly look outside the sewer pipes, ensuring no one is near enough to see me. I wriggle over to the dying scout in the water, and wrap my tentacles around his chest tightly. He gasps and tries to turn his head to look at me, but I smack him in the head with my claw. His head flops to the side. Unconscious. I could've tried using my paralyzing bite, but I don't think I would have been able to stop myself from ripping his throat out. I swim, pulling him towards the deeper parts of the sewers. I growl at the warm flesh beneath my tentacles. I want to rip it apart, run my feelers all over it, and hear it scream in agony when I rip teeth from sensitive gums...

"Spy and Scout, swimming in a sewer, B-L-E-E-D-I-N-G. First comes torture, then comes feeding, then comes hiding the body..."

I butcher the children's song horribly, my own made lyrics nonrhythmic, my singing false and raspy. I enjoy it though. Sadistic thoughts keep me amused in the endless boredom that is my existence.

I tighten my tentacles around the boy, and am surprised to feel that his feet are as cold as the water around them. Merde! The idiot is dying ! I immediately dive underwater, pulling the Scout with me, a tentacle around his mouth to prevent him from trying to breathe water. I swim as fast as I can, not wanting my only entertainment to die.

We surface in my nest, the only place where I truly feel at ease. I let out a pleased hum when I see my shelter. I enjoy the deep darkness from my cave, I can see straight through it, my eyes a great deal better than they had been before my change. Bones litter the cave, and a small pile of limbs lie in a small corner, leftovers from my dinner yesterday.

I try to lay the Scout down on the cave floor, but I find my cave is too small for a human to be lying in. Figures. I always liked to keep my tentacles in the water when eating here, so I never needed more than just 1 meter of room.

I quickly lay the scout next to the RED dispenser that I stole many months ago. Back then, I took the dispenser on a whim, an old habit. Such a useful device for torturing. No despicable Medics to annoy me, just a small machine constantly, healing my prey. Prolonging the suffering until I decided to show mercy to my prey. The dispenser also glows for a bit, which comes in handy when trying to read in peace.

I can't resist running my claws over my prey's legs hanging into the water, watching the wounds heal up slowly, only to reappear when I once again run my claws over his legs. My stomach clenches with hunger, and I can't seem to stop salivating constantly. I need to eat before I lose control...

I grab an old limb from my pile of 'leftovers' and start gnawing on it. It tastes bad, but it fills my stomach, and that's all that matter now. I don't want to eat him without having my fair share of deserved fun...

I lean over him, my claws drawing deep marks over his pale face. I better ready myself for when the boy wakes up. I pull myself out of the water for a bit, and I reach into my dispenser. I keep all I own in there, probably because it's the only remotely dry place in my nest.

Countless stacks of useless intel serve to dry my skin as I shove them all aside to find my personal belongings. My balaclava and suit lie folded at the bottom, partially rotten and moldy from being damp for so long, and I pull them out. They have nostalgic value to me, but no practical use, I don't wear them anymore. They'll only slow me down. My butterfly knife still sticks out of the hidden pocket in my suit, and I smile when I remember the many times I killed someone with that very knife. The smile drops when I remember the times I sank it's blade into my arms and tentacles, intending to end my existence. I quickly drop the items on the cave floor. My ambassador lies at the very bottom, but for once, the ache to try and shoot myself through the head isn't present. I have something to occupy myself with now. And no suicidal thoughts are going to get in the way of that. I push the Ambassador aside to reach the last item in the dispenser.

The BLU Medic's head. He was the cause of my 'incident'. He took away all that I was, and turned me into... into whatever I am now.

I took my revenge.

It was hard to catch the Medic alone, but weeks of waiting paid off, and I was able to capture him. It wasn't easy to drag him to my nest without killing him or alerting anyone. Even though the Medic got quite a few syringes and saws sticking into me, it was very worth it. I feel a grin split my face once more, and I let my clawed fingers run over my teeth necklace again. The teeth clacking together softly have a calming effect on me, and I sigh contently.

Never before did I hear screams as loud as the BLU Medic's when I pulled his teeth out. Beautiful. It's probably the BLU Medic who sparked my obsession with pulling teeth. I smash the head into the dispenser, and throw it into the water. I'll fish it up later. Maybe. Someday.

I fold my ambassador and knife in my moldy suit, and go down into the water. I pull away a rock with my tentacles, and stash my belongings in the small hole it leaves in the stone wall. Never take any chances. I wanted all the possible weapons far away from the boy. Inexperienced as Scouts often are, they are still hired mercenaries, and their speed is something to watch out for. I shove some dirt in front of the items to hide them. That should do for now. I swim back quickly, maybe the Scout has already awakened. Maybe I can already start ! I snarl at the idea in impatience. I want food and screams. Food and Screams. Preferably NOW !

I hurry back towards my nest, and I feel anger building in my chest when I find the Scout still sleeping. How DARE he be still asleep ? I snarl and slap one of my tentacles across his face roughly. He only lets out a pained groan before resuming his sleep again. Figures. I don't stop hitting though, the feeling of my tentacles striking his skin like whips making me feel jittery and sending my tentacles into a twitching spasm every time they strike. I snarl angrily, and my claws join in the attempt to wake the Scout, slashing across his chest.

He wakes up with a startled gasp, and a raw groan escapes him. " What... Who...? I -" He turns his head, the confused expression on his face immediately twists into one of pure horror. He freezes on the spot, his jaw trembling in shock, and his nails digging into the cave ground.

His eyes widen as he takes in my appearance, and he presses himself against the cave wall. "What'z wrong mon ami ? Do I have somezhing on my face ?"

I wipe my hand over my face, gory smears from my earlier snack being left behind on my cheek. I can't seem to stop grinning. The scout is pale, and his arms are shaking, and behind the terrified expression I see a flicker of disgust. I thought I would have felt amused by seeing his repulsed glare, that it wouldn't phase me. But instead of amusement, an unwelcome feeling creeps up on me, one I thought I had gotten rid of. Shame.

It wipes the grin right off my face, and I feel self-hate bubbling up as the scout gags at my looks. I feel like clawing at my face and tentacles in disgust, crawling away and never showing my face again, dying. I suppress it. Now is not the time. It would never work anyway. I have become so very ugly. Ever since my 'incident', I have clawed at my ugly body in an attempt to return it to its previous state, to no avail. I am still hideous. If not even more ugly...

A weak kick in the chest jolts me out of my thoughts, and I gasp in surprise, instinct kicking in immediately. All thoughts are kicked out of my head in a millisecond, leaving only the pure need to survive, to live. Before I know it, my tentacles are wrapped tightly around the Scout's neck, the small bones in his neck creaking and shifting beneath my grip. His mouth opens and closes without a sound, his eyes bulging and limbs twitching in the tight grip of my tentacles.

"If you do that again, I will rip the teeth from your jaws and use them as beads for my necklace!" I hiss the words sharply into his ears, and I tighten my tentacles briefly around him before finally releasing his neck. The Scout starts gasping like crazy, loud coughs interrupting his desperate attempts at breathing. Ha. I make it sound like I won't pull out his teeth if he decides to play good. I will do it anyway, if he behaves or not. There's always room for more teeth in my collection.

I smile. Time to get to work. I wrap two of my tentacles around each of his limbs, and stretch him out under me. He is still breathing loudly, but it won't take long before he starts screaming and yelling again. I clamp my clawed hand over his mouth and give him a sly smile. Such memories flooded back into my mind...

Before the 'incident', I had been a decent Spy. My greatest ability didn't lie on the battlefield, oh no, expertise was torture. On the battlefield, I used to be average at best. Nothing extraordinary. Just another Spy, sharing my amount of skill with dozens of others. But when it came to extracting information from prisoners, I was one of the very best.

Where the other Spies failed for days on end, I would succeed in mere hours. Many teammates feared me, with good reasons I suppose. When asked, I would torture anyone they wanted me to. Enemies and Teammates... They made no difference to me.

When they didn't catch anyone. I would.

Any person, friend of foe. I'd tie them up and torture them until their body could take no more. I truly enjoyed that, and still do. I don't think my team was unhappy when the BLU Medic decided I was too dangerous to keep in the team. They even helped him finding me and strapping me down. I guess they finally had enough of my psychotic behavior.

I shake the memories out of my head, and turn to my prey, who shivers under my glare. It's time for entertainment " Let us get sstarted oui ?"

….

I stare at the disemboweled mess in front of me that used to be the RED Scout. My only means of amusement reduced to a mere meal. My mood has turned sour, and I grit my teeth, swallowing a piece of flesh that was hanging from between my lips. I would have spat it out, but I am not wasting perfectly good food like Scout-meat.

How could I let this happen ? I should have had more control over myself, I shouldn't have let myself go like that ! I snarl in frustration and dig my claws into one of my tentacles again. I had barely even begun. I had only just started to wring the teeth from his jaws, and I only pulled the nails from his feet... I had overestimated my amount of control over my instincts. My little snack hadn't been enough to stop me from killing the scout in a pang of hunger. I pull my nails out of my tentacle, and I fidget with my jewelry nervously.

I feel tears threatening to spill, and I claw into my tentacles again to prevent it. I used to be such a controlled man, able to hold back everything and anything without ever losing control. It's no longer like that, I can feel it.

As a human, I had something that resembled instincts. Just simple urges to eat and drink, to help me survive... My incident more than tripled my need for those things. When I feel hunger, I can't tell myself to wait until the end of the day. No. I must feed right then and there! It's not a choice I assure you, as soon as my stomach rumbles, all I can think about is food. All I do from there is related to it. It scares me to have lost control over myself like that. It happened just a few moments ago too... I also lost all the teeth I pulled out of the Scout's mouth...

Did I mention I want to die ? Desperately? I tried as soon as possible after my incident, only to find out that I couldn't. I truly couldn't, and I still can't. As soon as the barrel of my ambassador rests against my temple, my instinct kicks in, taking over my entire being. The mere idea of dying is enough for my body to take control over my mind. The first time I tried to end myself, I completely lost any sense of reality. I regained my mind when I had dragged myself onto dry land, and got my tentacle into one of the sniper's traps. Thank god that tentacle grew back by itself. Thank god nobody was around to hear me scream and cry like a child...

The second time I tried to end myself, took preparations. I sat in my nest for the whole day, and told myself dying would be bliss. I believed it. But when I felt the iron of the gun against my lips, I freaked again. Panic and fear running through me faster then a Scout on Bonk!. I don't even know what sparks it. I long for death, dream of it even. But in the moment of truth, all is overcome by a flaming desire to survive. I can not resist, and I flee my nest in panic every single time. Like a pathetic, scared animal.

I tried ignoring it, supressing it, acknowledging it, nothing works! So I just try, every day, in the hope that this time, I will be able to pull the trigger before I can't even hurt myself the way I want. Just one step too far and my control is out the window. I take my injured tentacle up to my mouth and lick over the wounds absentmindedly, the dispenser slowly closing them, leaving tiny scars on my tentacles. A medigun would rid me of the scars as well, but I would be lying if I say I don't like the scars. Not because I think they look pretty, or cool, but because I like to think that I chose to be ugly. It makes it easier to be ugly. Ugly. Ugly. I bite into my still healing tentacle, leaving crude teeth marks on it, and lick the blood from re-opened wound. Ugly.

I lie down on the corpse of the Scout. It's still somewhat warm. I curl up to the cooling flesh, and nibble on a loose piece of flesh. I fall asleep very quickly, nuzzling closer into my lukewarm dinner. I can't help but feel content. I am warm, fed, sleepy, entertained, and safe. All a monster like me could ask for. I should be enraged for losing my cool so quickly, I should be annoyed for losing my entertainment, I should feel depressed for becoming a monstrosity, but there is only one thing on my mind: sleep.

….

When I awaken, I find that I am covered in a thick layer of sticky Scout-gore. The only part of my body not covered in guts and caked blood is my lower body. My tentacles have been hanging in the water the entire night. I should probably take a morning dip, the skin on my upper body feels very dry and icky with all that blood on it. I scratch my claws over what's left of the Scout's body, and quickly eat a few scraps of meat as means of breakfast. There's barely anything edible left on the Scout, the boy didn't have much meat on him to begin with, mostly tendons and bones.

I glance around my home, and I smile. It's a complete mess. The Dispenser is knocked slightly to the side in an escape attempt of the Scout, and the walls and ceiling are splattered with blood and innards. My pile of 'snacks' is also lying haphazardly throughout my tiny cave, many of them drifting in the water next to me. I am tidy, and I hate a mess. But ever since the incident, a messy nest means something to occupy myself with! Besides trying desperately to shove a gun into my mouth and pull the trigger of course.

I wring my tentacles in slight anticipation, there's nothing like tidying up my nest! First things first. I need to get rid of the source of this mess. The Scout. I pull the last remaining teeth from his jaws, and drop them into the blood splattered dispenser, taking the time to push it into it's previous position. I wipe a wet tentacle over the dispenser to get the blood off, singing a song to myself.

" Working at ze Car-wassh... Ze car wassh~"

Once the dispenser is as good as clean, I start gathering the bits and pieces of Scout scattered around the cave. I wish I knew some more songs I could sing. I stack the pieces of flesh in a small corner next to the dispenser, and I take my time to order them in freshness. Long edible food on the bottom, close to rotting at the top, and the freshest in the middle.

I splash large amounts of water into the cave, and rub my tentacles over the walls and ceiling to get the caked blood to loosen. The water drips down, and takes most of the grime with it. I shove the bones lying around into the dispenser, and stack the Intel papers into neat little piles. I swipe all the leftover thrash into the water, and before I know it, my entire cave is spic and span once again. Just the way I like it.

I lie down in my nest contently, taking a moment to enjoy my hard work. I let out a sigh.

The last piece of thrash floating around is the Scout's corpse. It's drifting face-down in the water, to prevent it from dirtying my cave. I stretch myself, and prepare to leave my nest.

I check my cloaking ability, and flex all my tentacles. Perfect.

I scrape my nails over the cave wall, and sharpen them for a bit. That'll have to do.

I lick over my teeth, and I'm satisfied with the amount of paralyzing poison that drips from them. Very nice.

I'm ready to go out.

I grip the corpse in my tentacles and dive down to leave my nest. When I resurface, I find that the battlefield is still deadly silent, and that the sun is barely creeping above the horizon. I feel a slight twinge of despair pull at me. Only morning ? How would I go through the rest of this day ? My good spirits fade, and I let myself sink to the bottom of the sewers, pushing the corpse away from me. Another day. What in the world would I do today ? There is only so much I can do... I can clean my nest, watch the fight between the teams, bite and claw at myself until I whimper in pain, try to slit my throat, ram my head against a wall to lose consciousness. Big fun, if you couldn't tell already.

In a fit of blind rage, I grab the corpse in the water, and smack it against the sewer floor.

SMACK!

"I hate you!"

SMACK!

"I hate you!"

SMACK!

"I HATE YOU!"

With the loudest roar I can summon, I throw the corpse out of the sewers, sending it skittering across the dust outside. I scream again in frustration and anger, and I drag my claws over my face roughly, trying to stop the sobs rippling through me. I curl up into a ball, and retract my nails from the new wounds in my face. My entire existence is useless.